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Sketch stopped hesitantly on the dock. He looked behind him at Flames, who looked up at him with a look of doubt on his face. Sketch looked down on the dock and saw his father finishing the packing in the impending evening. Sketch knew that his father father had sent the other men home to their families while he finished the work. He smiled to himself at this selfless act. He took a deep breath, motioned to Flames and walked toward his father. Spot looked up as his sons approached, smiling at their serious faces. "Whassa matta? Someone die?" Spot teased. Flames cracked a smile and Sketch became somewhat relaxed.
"Naw. Papa dere's sometin' me an' Flames wanna tawk ta ya 'bout." Spot nodded seriously, sitting down on one of the crates. Flames walked up tentatively to his father and took a deep breath. "I wanna be leada of Brooklyn." He said quickly. Spot's eyes widened, but he smiled a moment later. "Well yer brudda's foist in line ya know." Spot said gently. "I don't wanna be leada." Sketch broke in. Spot's eyes widened and he looked up at him sharply. "Ya don't?" Spot murmured. Sketch shook his head. "Naw. I ain't suited to it. It don't hold an' interest wit' me, but Flames here," Sketch paused, putting an arm on his brother's shoulder. "He kin do it jest fine. He jest needs a few pointas as ta where ta stawt." Sketch finished. Spot's forehead remained furrowed for a moment before he looked up again at Sketch. "You sure you wanna do dis?" He asked him quietly. Sketch nodded. "I'm sure."
Spot nodded and stood up, putting an arm on Flames. "Well kid, we gotta stawt from da beginnin'. Foist, ya's got ta gain yer boys' trusts. Dats da foist ting." Spot said. "I done dat wit' my group." Flames said excitedly. "Yeah, but dey ain't alla Brooklyn." Sketch pointed out. Spot grinned at his oldest son. "Sketch is right. So da next ting you'se gotta do is you gots ta tell 'em dat yer gonna try out bein' leada. Den you tell dem ta tell dey're udda friends an' ta spread it 'round dat Flames Conlon is tryin' out fer leada! Afta dat, ya jest gotta answa questions." Spot said proudly. "Whaddya mean? Answa questions?" Flames said, looking up at his father. "Well, once woid gets around dat a kid is gonna try ta be leada, udda boys comes lookin' fer ya ta ask ya what kinda tings you'd do as leada, ya know?" Spot said. Flames grinned and nodded. "Yeah sure. Dis is gonna be great! I'm gonna be da best Brooklyn leada eva!" Flames yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
Sketch looked at his little brother with a smile and his eyes drifted back to Spot. It was obvious that his father was pleased to death to have a son follow in his footsteps. So was he mad at HIM for not wanting to be leader? Would all their times where they just sat and talked be over? Sketch stood alone for a time as his father shouldered his tools and walked off towards the little house that sat on the wharf, his little son's hand holding his own tightly. Spot's head was bent so that he could hear the tiny voice babbling on and on. A smile was on his face and he looked more happy than he had been in a long time. A pang struck at Sketch's heart. "So'm I gonna be replaced or sometin' 'cause I ain't gonna be leada?" He murmured as he watched his father and brother disappear into the darkness.
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Sketch stopped hesitantly on the dock. He looked behind him at Flames, who looked up at him with a look of doubt on his face. Sketch looked down on the dock and saw his father finishing the packing in the impending evening. Sketch knew that his father father had sent the other men home to their families while he finished the work. He smiled to himself at this selfless act. He took a deep breath, motioned to Flames and walked toward his father. Spot looked up as his sons approached, smiling at their serious faces. "Whassa matta? Someone die?" Spot teased. Flames cracked a smile and Sketch became somewhat relaxed.
"Naw. Papa dere's sometin' me an' Flames wanna tawk ta ya 'bout." Spot nodded seriously, sitting down on one of the crates. Flames walked up tentatively to his father and took a deep breath. "I wanna be leada of Brooklyn." He said quickly. Spot's eyes widened, but he smiled a moment later. "Well yer brudda's foist in line ya know." Spot said gently. "I don't wanna be leada." Sketch broke in. Spot's eyes widened and he looked up at him sharply. "Ya don't?" Spot murmured. Sketch shook his head. "Naw. I ain't suited to it. It don't hold an' interest wit' me, but Flames here," Sketch paused, putting an arm on his brother's shoulder. "He kin do it jest fine. He jest needs a few pointas as ta where ta stawt." Sketch finished. Spot's forehead remained furrowed for a moment before he looked up again at Sketch. "You sure you wanna do dis?" He asked him quietly. Sketch nodded. "I'm sure."
Spot nodded and stood up, putting an arm on Flames. "Well kid, we gotta stawt from da beginnin'. Foist, ya's got ta gain yer boys' trusts. Dats da foist ting." Spot said. "I done dat wit' my group." Flames said excitedly. "Yeah, but dey ain't alla Brooklyn." Sketch pointed out. Spot grinned at his oldest son. "Sketch is right. So da next ting you'se gotta do is you gots ta tell 'em dat yer gonna try out bein' leada. Den you tell dem ta tell dey're udda friends an' ta spread it 'round dat Flames Conlon is tryin' out fer leada! Afta dat, ya jest gotta answa questions." Spot said proudly. "Whaddya mean? Answa questions?" Flames said, looking up at his father. "Well, once woid gets around dat a kid is gonna try ta be leada, udda boys comes lookin' fer ya ta ask ya what kinda tings you'd do as leada, ya know?" Spot said. Flames grinned and nodded. "Yeah sure. Dis is gonna be great! I'm gonna be da best Brooklyn leada eva!" Flames yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
Sketch looked at his little brother with a smile and his eyes drifted back to Spot. It was obvious that his father was pleased to death to have a son follow in his footsteps. So was he mad at HIM for not wanting to be leader? Would all their times where they just sat and talked be over? Sketch stood alone for a time as his father shouldered his tools and walked off towards the little house that sat on the wharf, his little son's hand holding his own tightly. Spot's head was bent so that he could hear the tiny voice babbling on and on. A smile was on his face and he looked more happy than he had been in a long time. A pang struck at Sketch's heart. "So'm I gonna be replaced or sometin' 'cause I ain't gonna be leada?" He murmured as he watched his father and brother disappear into the darkness.
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